


Olya Povlatsky One Shots

by Holtzmann_lover



Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: F/F, Lesbians, Miscarriages, Russia, homphobia, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holtzmann_lover/pseuds/Holtzmann_lover
Summary: A collection of one shots starring Olya Povlatsky from Saturday Night Live.
Relationships: Olya Povlatsky/Original Female Characters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. 1

Olya held Natasha’s head in her hands as she kissed her deeply. Natasha kissed her back passionately, her hands around Olya’s waist. They were laying in Olya’s bed, making out. She had only made out with one girl, Natasha. Russia was not a place where you could be fooling around with whoever you wanted.

“I have to go,” Natasha moaned out in between kisses. “I have stuff to do.”

Olya sighed and let go of the woman, climbing off. As they separated, she was smacked in the face with reality. She was living in Russia. The last thing she wanted for Natasha was to get hurt. 

“Okay,” Olya nodded, getting off the bed. Natasha followed and they quickly readjusted their clothes that were wrinkled before going downstairs. Her great grandmother, the mother figure in her life, sat at the table sewing.

“What were you girls doing up there?” Her grandmother asked, not taking her eyes off her work.

“Nothing,” Olya said.

One of her younger sisters, Anna, who was watching TV, looked up. “You are always up there.”

Olya ignored her comment and walked out the door with Natasha. She didn’t want to risk getting thrown out of her own house. Her family didn’t have money in the first place. She would have nowhere to go if that were the case.

She didn’t mind dying. It wasn’t something she was afraid of. And she didn’t quite know why people were. But just because she didn't mind if she died, didn’t mean she wanted anything to happen to anyone else. Self deprecating humor was the only way she got by with her depression, even though not many people understood it. But she understood it and that’s all that mattered to her.

Olya and Natasha paused outside of Olya’s house and both awkwardly stared at the ground.

“Will I see you soon?” Natasha asked.

Olya knew that Natasha didn’t mean at the grocery store or at work.

“I don’t know,” Olya admitted. “Maybe it is best if we just forget this.”

Natasha looked sad and Olya wanted to bring the girl to her chest, hugging her tightly and protecting her from the world. But she was only one person and there was only so much she could do. Natasha nodded sadly and gave Olya one last look before turning the other way and walking down the road.

Olya was twenty five now and her luck at dating had been bad. She wanted to marry a guy and move out of her house, but she simply didn’t have a connection with any of the guys she had hooked up with or even tried to date. Maybe she was going to end up in Hell like how everyone said gay people would.

As she was walking, she passed by a market that was selling stew. Her stomach grumbled and she stopped to look at the different stews that were being sold. She didn’t know if she’d be eating tonight at home, so she scraped up the last of her money in her pocket and gave it to the vendor in return for the soup.

Olya walked away, holding her soup and trying to find a place to sit and eat. She stopped at a brick wall and hoisted herself up with her hands before beginning to eat. She watched two kids across the street kick around an old soccer ball. She watched the older kid as she felt a lump in her throat that she forced to go down.

_ Olya jolted awake, sitting up in what appeared to be a hospital bed. She looked around frantically. A nurse who was checking her vitals, put a hand on her shoulder and laid her back gently.  _

_ “I’m sorry, but you’ve miscarried,” The nurse said. _

_ Olya looked down at her stomach. She lightly stroked at it, not wanting the words to be true. They couldn’t be. Her baby was no longer with her and she couldn’t think of a worse heartbreak, even though she had only been three months along. She was only sixteen. And even though other girls her age were having backyard abortions, she didn’t want that for herself or her baby. She’d rather herself die than the little one inside her. _

_ “I was not meant to be a mother anyways,” Olya sighed and then tried to get out of the bed, even though she had an IV in her. “Time for me to leave.” _

_ “You need rest,” The nurse disagreed. _

_ “I am not sick. I do not need to be here. I need to leave,” Olya explained. _

_ Olya needed to put this behind her. There was no need to dwell over the fact that she had lost her baby. Maybe get a new job or something. Stop talking to Alexei, who helped create the baby. But she couldn’t stay in the hospital bed, crying over something that was already done. _

Olya shoved a bite of the stew in her mouth. Her gaze went to the younger boy. He was struggling to keep up. 

_ The next time Olya had a miscarriage, she was eighteen and she knew the signs. Her stomach was cramping but the thing that made it obvious was the bleeding. She was six months into the pregnancy and although it was more rare for miscarriages to happen then, they still did. She clutched her rounded stomach as she forced her way down downstairs to her grandma. _

_ “I think I’m having a miscarriage,” Olya explained. _

_ Her grandmother immediately got up to help her. “We need to go to the hospital.” _

_ “It’s fine, it just hurts,” Olya said. “We don’t have the money.” _

_ Her grandma wasn’t having it however, and she shoved Olya out the door, telling one of Olya’s sisters to watch the others. Olya wondered how her oldest sister was able to carry her niece to full term. They made it to the hospital and they checked in. Olya changed into a hospital gown and allowed herself to get comfy in the hospital bed while her grandma sat in a chair next to her. _

_ She placed a hand on her stomach. She had almost made it to nine months. This was the last time she would have with her baby. She hoped that God would have a place in Heaven for her babies.  _

_ A nurse came into the room and she didn’t remember much after besides asking the nurse to save her baby instead of her and having to push. _

Olya jumped as someone sat beside her. She looked over and saw Natasha sitting next to her. Olya sat her empty stew bowl down next to her.

“Natasha, we shouldn’t be together,” Olya said.

“I know, but I can’t help it. I really like you,” Natasha said back.

“It is too dangerous,” Olya disagreed. She hopped off the brick wall and turned to leave.

“I do not care,” Natasha argued.

Olya turned around to look at her. “I do. The only way I can take care of you is by being apart.”

Natasha went to argue more but Olya wouldn’t let her. There was no use. Olya wouldn’t change her mind. A brief image flashed across Olya’s mind of Natasha getting beaten up in the back of an alleyway. She shook her head to get rid of the image.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot be together,” Olya continued. “Go find a man and get married, have kids. That is the best that we can do for each other.”

“Olya…” Natasha began to say but trailed off.

“Stop,” Olya stressed. “Besides I have a date tonight.”

Olya walked off, leaving Natasha in her tracks. Of course she didn’t have a date but she needed to be as far away from Natasha as possible. That was the only way she could protect Natasha. And even though she hated it, she knew that it was the best option. Besides, she was already going to Hell. Why did it matter if she hurt another person?


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olya accidentally walks in on her daughter with another girl.

At twenty six years old, Olya was able to carry her third child to full term, delivering a baby girl with barely any issues. It had been a miracle to her. She held the tiny baby to her chest, protecting her from the world of Hell she was born into. She decided to name her baby Angelina. Even though she had always believed that God would never bless her, she also knew that she finally had a little angel of her own. And from that day on, she loved her baby with all of her heart.

_ Sixteen Years Later _

Olya was in a good mood. It was rare, but she had a smile on her face. She had worked overtime, like usual, but finally had the time and money to make a nice meal for her baby.

She unlocked the door, slipping inside and taking her sweater off. She turned the stove on before putting on a pot of water to boil it. She even hummed a little. That was even rarer. She cut the vegetables up and slid them off the cutting board and into the boiling water to cook.

“Angel?” She called out. There was no response so she called again. “Angel?”

When there was no response again, she climbed the stairs to go look for her daughter. Angelina’s door was closed so she did the polite thing to do which was to knock before entering. She knocked to give her daughter a warning that she was coming in. 

“Angel, baby, can you please help-” She paused when she saw the situation. It was one that she never expected to see.

Angelina was on top of her friend and it had been clear that they were touching each other in ways that weren’t always accepted. Her friend, Nadia, quickly wiggled out from under Angelina. Angelina fell beside her.

“What are you doing?” Olya asked, surprise clear in her voice.

“Nothing!” Angelina said.

“Finish up, we need to have a talk,” Olya instructed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Angelina took a deep breath, very scared. She didn’t know what was going to happen. She had never heard of her mom being homophobic before but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. Nadia got up and rushed to put her shoes on, which were laying on the floor. 

“I’ll sneak you out the back door,” Angelina told her.

Nadia nodded and they rushed downstairs and Angelina showed her out the backdoor before going to the kitchen where Olya was stirring the mixture in the pot. Angelina slowly walked towards the kitchen. She didn’t know what to expect but she braced herself for whatever was to come. Whether it was beating or being kicked out of her own home. Olya noticed her out of the corner of her eye and pointed at the table with a wooden spoon.

“Sit,” She instructed and Angelina was quick to sit down. Olya made sure dinner would be okay on the stove before sitting down next to her daughter.

“Do you know how dangerous that can be?” Olya said. 

Those were not the words that Angelina expected to come out of her mother’s mouth. She was expecting more harsh words to come out. Instead, she was met with confusion. The only reason why she was being disciplined was because she was doing something that could be dangerous.

Angelina went to open her mouth but no words came out so she closed her mouth again. 

“You need to be careful,” Olya said.

Finally Angelina had found some words. “Are you going to kick me out?”

“Kick you out?” Olya asked. She was surprised those were the words that came out of her daughter’s mouth. Although she shouldn’t have been. She had experienced enough homophobia to last a lifetime. Even if it wasn’t directed at her. She recovered quickly enough to begin talking again. “I’m not going to kick you out.”

Olya could practically see the relief wash away from Angelina’s shoulders. She wanted to hug her but she knew that she probably should make it clear to her daughter just how much trouble she could get into.

“If girls are what you like, then fine, but you need to be careful. No holding hands in public. No kissing in public. You are asking for the worst when you do that,” Olya said.

Angelina looked down. She knew the risks. She knew that people had been murdered because of it. It wasn’t fair that she’d have to hide who she liked.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I wish that we lived in a country where it did not matter who we were attracted to. But this is where we are and we have to deal,” Olya said.

“We deal,” Angelina repeated.

Olya thought about what she would want her grandmother to say to her, if she had ever come out. “I love you, baby. Come here.”

Angelina leaned into her mother’s open arms. They embraced each other. Russia sucked, but they were a team and if they had each other, then they could face anything, even the harsh homophobia that came with living in Russia.

Eventually, they parted and Olya began speaking again, nodding to the food on the stove. “Now come help me eat this.”

* * *

“Mama!” Angelina yelled out, coming into the kitchen. “What’s for din-”

Olya pulled away from the woman who she was pressed up against, looking at her daughter in fear. Angelina didn’t know her mother liked any other gender than male.

“What the hell?” Angelina spoke up.

“Angelina, be polite,” Olya slightly scolded her. She was embarrassed and she stepped away from the girl who she was kissing.

“I will not,” Angelina said. “You always remind me to be careful and here you are making out with another woman right in front of the kitchen window.”

“I am going to go,” The woman said and scurried out the door.

Olya turned to Angelina. “Angelina! I have taught you better.”

Angelina huffed and turned around to leave. “Whatever, hypocrite.”

“Stop it!” Olya snapped, angrily.

Angelina was just as mad. She couldn’t believe her mom was being so careless. She didn’t even know her mother liked girls. And she was being so careless about it too. Kissing where everyone could see her. She wasn’t listening to her own words.

“You know the risks of doing that and you are doing it anyway!” Angelina cried out. “You have not even thought of me.”

Olya sighed in defeat. Angelina had a point. She had been selfish, not even thinking about her daughter. If something horrible were to happen to her, Angelina would be alone.

“You’re right. I was not,” Olya admitted. “I guess it is because I just simply do not care what happens to me. You’re a different story. I love you more than life itself.”

“You should,” Angelina said. “Because I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I will be more careful, “ Olya promised. “I’m sorry.”

Angelina nodded but she was still weary. Olya opened her arms up and brought her Angelina in for a hug, kissing the top of her head. Even though she didn’t care about herself, she loved her daughter and that was enough to get her to change her ways of being so careless. She never knew that she would have to protect herself to protect her daughter, but she was going to try, because without her daughter, she would be nothing.


End file.
